Page 35 of The Game Changer (Knights of Passion #3)

She snorted. “Lucy’s the worst. She doesn’t understand rescue at all.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

Suspicion flared. “She told you, didn’t she?” She narrowed her eyes. “Where is she?”

He shifted, clearly anticipating the explosion. “She’s with Lindsey and Sadie. She took your key. Said she needed a place to crash.”

Savannah sat bolt upright, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. “You let Lucy near your house? We have to go. Now.”

He caught her wrist gently. “Relax. She promised no parties. Lindsey’s there too.”

She groaned, still half-torn between panic and exhaustion. “Perfect. My party sister and your party sister. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Do you want to call them?” he offered, brushing her hair back from her face.

She sagged against him again. “It’s your house. And I’m too tired to care.”

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet wrapping around them like another blanket.

Then he asked, voice low, “Tell me about today.”

She hesitated. “I can’t keep them all. That’s the rule. I make space for the next one. If I kept Carl, I’d be choosing him over another dog who might not get that second chance.”

Dylan’s posture stiffened. “I didn’t mean to stop you from rescuing. Have I... did I keep you from saving dogs?”

She reached up and touched his cheek, grounding him. “No. I have fosters, a network. Carl was a special case. He was broken when I got him. Scared. Sick. Half-dead inside. I didn’t think he’d make it.”

He ran a hand down her hair, slow and steady. “But he did.”

“He did.” Her voice cracked. “I saw something in him. Hope, maybe. Desperation. I couldn’t turn away.”

He held her close as she told him everything.

She lay against him, resting a hand on his stomach as she sighed into his touch.

Now she understood why her dogs loved being petted so much, why Sadie went into ecstasy when Dylan came home.

His hands were truly magical. She told him about her gentle giant, Carl, who came in from an abusive situation, so sick from multiple wounds and pneumonia and heartworm positive.

She wasn’t sure he’d survive. He was scared of everyone and everything, but there was something in his eyes, something that pleaded with her to give him a chance.

She saw his loneliness, his fear, and his utter hopelessness and couldn’t turn away.

She had kept him the longest, mostly because of his illness and not being able to hand him off to a family yet, but also because she had gotten attached.

“Why now? Why not keep him?”

“This young couple has been coming to the past three adoption events just to see Carl. They love him and will be a great fit for him. Dylan, I can’t keep them all. He’s better now,” she whispered. “And I still feel like I cut out my heart.”

“You didn’t just help him,” Dylan said quietly. “You loved him. And now it’s ripping you apart to let go.”

“I had to,” she murmured.

“Why?” he challenged. “Why not keep the one who made it in?”

“Because if I keep him, I can’t help the next one.”

“You are already involved,” he said gently. “You just won’t admit it. Maybe you’ve protected your heart so well, you forgot how to let anything in.”

She flinched, tearing back from him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? That I don’t care? I’m fucking shattered tonight, and you think I don’t feel enough?”

He didn’t raise his voice. “No. I think Carl got under your skin in a way you didn’t expect. And maybe you’re afraid to admit how deep it went.”

She surged to her feet, fists clenched. “Just because you were nice tonight doesn’t mean you get to judge me.”

“I’m not judging.” He stood, hands out. “But when we met, you all but guilt-tripped me into keeping Sadie. And now you’re doing the exact opposite.”

She turned away, pacing. “You don’t get it.

When I first got involved in rescue, I volunteered with other groups and shelters, and I got sucked in every time.

You see how easy it is. The big eyes, the soft bellies.

They know how to worm their way into our hearts.

And when we see such horrible abuse, it breaks your heart every day.

Rescue chews you up and spits you out unless you’re strong.

One of my mentors told me that I had to stand firm.

Have compassion and sympathy but remember to help who I can and not get too attached.

Rescue chews you up. You have to be strong, clear-headed.

Every dog I keep means one I can’t save. I’ve made peace with that.”

His voice softened. “But have you?”

She stopped, sagged, spine curling with weariness. “No. Not tonight.”

He stepped in, wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly as she needed. “So what’s next?”

“I find the next dog. The one who needs me now. That’s what I do.”

“I get it.” He paused. “Can I help?”

She inhaled his scent, grounding herself in his warmth. “Stay with me. The bed’s too empty.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”

Later, curled against him under the comfort of blanket and arms, she felt the tension bleed from her body. Just before sleep claimed her, she whispered, “Thank you for being here.”

“Always,” he murmured.

And as she drifted into sleep, one last thought pierced through the haze—if letting go of Carl hurt, the thought of letting go of Dylan would shatter her completely.